


Mark Swipes Right

by Star_less



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cross-Posted on deviantArt, Diapers, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forced Infantilism, Gen, Humiliation, Infantilism, Long Shot, No Sex, No Smut, Omorashi, One Shot, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Punishments, Seventeen Year Old Character, Sixteen Year Old Character, Soap Punishment, Wetting, dead dove do not eat, footballer, messing, probably some sort of au where this isn't at least a bit sketchy, purely for the hell of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24169786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: Sixteen year old lonely-but-promising footballer Mark joins Tinder - just to make friends! He ends up meeting a girl and biting off a lot more than he could possibly chew."...Why?" he asked softly."Why what?" Chloe asked in return, pouring a small cloud of baby powder onto his nethers."Why are you doing this?" He didn't cry, even if his voice sounded a bit tight again. "Why me? What did I do to you?" Mark picked up a nearby toy and squeezed it; it crinkled. "You do this to other people?"Chloe shrugged. "It's a hobby."Mark scoffed. "Sick hobby. Some of us have normal hobbies. Like football."
Relationships: Chloe and Mark, Original Female Character & Original Male Character
Kudos: 69





	Mark Swipes Right

**Author's Note:**

> Pay attention to tags. I have been wanting to write one of these for a while and have only now gotten around to doing so. I would love for anybody to write more for this if the mood takes you (assuming people read this) - in my head, Mark eventually comes around to the idea and is a compliant baby. That, and he gets humiliated in front of the entire football team. Because I'm mean. But, this was dragging on a bit, and so I didn't.

Settling further onto the couch, Mark sighed softly. His living room was quiet. Just at the tender age of sixteen his parents had decided he was grown up enough to have a place of his own and all but forced him out. "You're earning now, son," his Dad said when he came home with his football scholarship expecting praise. "Me and your mother think it's time you looked for a place of your own."  
He had football three times a week, training once, but the rest of the time was - secretly - quite a bit lonely. There was only so much time he could devote to studying and only so many boxsets he could binge watch, after all. Curling up into himself he picked his mobile phone up from where he had left it and began to flick across the apps. Typically, he had no notifications. Although he had made some great friends at football it was no secret that Mark was the youngest player, with his friends being at least a year older than him, sometimes even three. And so while Mark curled up and watched The Big Bang Theory for the millionth time, his friends were out drinking and doing all the things that he was too young to do.  
Hesitantly, his thumb hovered on the screen. One of his friends, Ethan, had downloaded Tinder onto his phone when he wasn't looking at football practice a few weeks ago. He had just scoffed at everybody when they laughed and showed him, but now he was considering it.  
Maybe it was a way to make some new friends...? 

Punching in his details and choosing the best selfie he had, Mark began swiping left and right.

~

"Hey! Mark, right?"

The girl in front of him looked at least a year older, and Mark somehow had butterflies and a sick feeling in his stomach all at the same time. "Yes," he whispered shyly as she sat opposite him, offering him a wide lipsticky smile. 

"Chloe. Great to meet you!" She reached her hand across the coffee shop table and squeezed his, beaming. "Football prodigy, huh?" she asked, settled back now, stirring sugar into her latte. 

Suddenly, it was as though all of his fears melted away into nothing. He wriggled to get comfortable. "...yeah. I got a scholarship." He gleamed with pride, lapping up her adoring smiles and 'wow's. He had never had anything like this before, not from his parents. He rose a little in his chair, proud. "Just this year."

"Your parents must be so proud of you." Chloe smiled. 

Mark sank a little, and his happy smile wilted. They should've been proud, and they probably were, a little bit, but somehow he wasn't too sure. Having him live alone didn't feel much like they were proud of him. "...I guess." he shrugged softly, picking at a few sugar grains that had spilled onto the table and then brushing them out from between his nails again. The tiny, repetitive movement helped distract him from the ache behind his eyes. "If you can call, 'kicking me out', 'proud'."

Chloe frowned. "You live alone?" He looked barely old enough to live alone. "Completely?"

Mark nodded. "The scholarship pays for my dinner and bills and stuff. At least, that's what Dad told me. If I put in a good performance I get to board at this, like, super prestigious sporting school between games. Next year."  
All the while she bought him a coffee or a hot chocolate or a big glass of OJ, and it was as if he took only a few sips before his glass was empty again, the conversation flowing just as well as the drinks. By the time he was four drinks in and Chloe had offered him a fifth, he squirmed uncomfortably and began to timidly peer around for the bathroom, shaking his head no. He took a deep, shaky breath and sat back, pulling at the waistband of his pants as they dug into the tender filled bump in his middle. "S'kinda lonely, I guess."

Chloe cocked her head, chewing her lip. "...why don't you come to mine for the night?"  
She had noticed his leg jiggling and the little shift of his bum that told her he was about to rise from his chair. She knew exactly where he was going, and gripped his arm. "We could watch a movie together. Don't worry, I only live a few minutes walk away!"

Mark gripped the back of his chair as he tucked it in, fidgeting. "I- I really have to--"

"Great!" Chloe beamed, leading him off with a domineering hand to the back, even if his voice was all raspy with shy desperation. Or perhaps, especially because of that. That was the way she liked them, after all.  
~

"Are we almost there?" Mark stammered. It was dark when they left the coffee shop--wow, they must have been chatting a long time!--and cold, the kind of cold that made him want to cross his legs. Chloe had his hand in hers and he was much too embarrassed to wriggle it free so he could potty dance. Still, he huddled pretty close to the girl, even if they had only just met. 

"Almost, it's just up this hill." Chloe explained with a smile, tugging his arm experimentally, or at least just tight enough to jolt him. Mark whimpered as he was jolted, letting out a really rather girlish 'ah!' as he stumbled over his own two feet. He landed on the grassy floor in a heap of arms and legs. Chloe stood over him and giggled, but held a hand to lift him up. "Careful!"

Mark had a wet patch the size of a grapefruit between his legs, but he fumbled to cross them so the girl wouldn't see, even in the darkness. The last thing he remembered was Chloe bundling him through the front door of her house and blurting out, 'where's your bathroom?!' - if they had watched a movie that night he certainly didn't remember much of it. Come to think of it, he had to pee so badly he thought he'd remember, y'know, ' _going_ ', but he didn't. Chloe led him to a bedroom, all in darkness, and he had a peaceful, dreamless kind of sleep.  
...  
When Mark awoke, he felt warm. Really warm, the cosy kind of warm. Which was odd, because he didn't have enough money for heating this week, and he was always woken up by the cold breeze from his bedroom window. That, and a nudging from his bladder. The cold air of his bedroom always made him need to pee, and usually he would answer nature's (lazy, noisy, thick) call half asleep before stumbling back to bed until his alarm woke him up. Today there was no alarm, and so he rolled over onto his belly... letting out a gasp and a shudder as he began to pee, the sheets beneath him absorbing as much as possible. The puddle ran up to his belly and down to each leg, and as he lay in his puddle and it began to cool he woke with a jolt. What... was that? It-- it almost felt as if he had... as if...  
"Oh, no!" Mark stammered, those babyish tears coming to his eyes as he scrambled up. An impressively sized wet patch, about the size of a watermelon, had collected on his sheets. The boxer-briefs he had gone to sleep wearing were sopping wet. 

"Oh, did you have an accident?" said a voice from high above him. Chloe. "You poor, _poor_ baby. Look at you, what a mess you've made!"

"It, it was an accident!" Mark blubbered tearfully, cowering slightly. Her words made his face redden and the tears on his cheeks only glinted. "Didn't mean to!"

"That's what I said, sweetie." Chloe giggled. "Oh, you poor doll, all worked up."

Chloe reached her arms down to scoop him up, and it was only then that he yanked himself out of his panic and realised where he was. This... this wasn't his home...!  
The walls were painted a pale yellow. Above him arched a pastel coloured rainbow, and in the furthest corner of the room sat a full-to-bursting wooden toy box. Some toys were place on top of the lid; coloured blocks, a big plastic train, and a giant fluffy teddy bear. A little way away from the toy box sat a large... changing table?  
He... he wasn't even in a bed--?!--he was barred in, sat in an oversized baby cradle with a squishy mattress and a thin red comforter (wet). A mobile dangled from the top of the crib, spinning lazily, and the corner of the crib was home to a small zoo of animals; a giraffe, a zebra, an elephant. Eyes crinkling, he backed away from the girl's outstretched arms and curled further into himself; the mattress beneath him crinkled and only served to fire up his blush further. "W- what have you done? What the _fuck_ \-- where the _hell_ am I?"  
He didn't even sound angry; his throat was tight, his voice was raspy, and it sounded as though he was going to cry. 

"Such naughty language," Chloe pouted, scooping him effortlessly into her arms and saying nothing as his wet boxers dripped. "We can't have you saying naughty words like that now, can we? What would your friends at football practice think?"

Mark struggled weakly, letting out small childish whines, but the girl was too strong. She carried him toward the changing table and plopped him unceremoniously onto it; his soaked boxers squished against him, cold, and he shivered. "What are you doing?! Get off me!"

"Lie down, sweetie." Chloe patted his stomach. 

"What are you doing?" Mark repeated, whimpering. What the hell was this? Was he having some sort of nightmare?

"Getting you out of these wet boxers," she cooed. 

Mark blinked, pulling at the wet fabric himself. "But-- but I can do it!" he protested. "I- I don't need you to do it for me!" he shifted again, trying to stand from the changing table and go in the direction of what was hopefully the bathroom, but Chloe tugged him down again. "...You can't even keep your pants dry." she laughed, and he was hushed into shamed silence. 

The girl moved over to a cabinet that Mark hadn't noticed before as he lay on the table in the quiet. This girl... she was only a year older than him! And he was letting her boss him around like this?!  
Before he could move, though, Chloe turned to face him again and he stilled at once. "Here we go, sweetie," she smiled. She had a garment in her hands. 

On instinct, Mark bunched a little further up the changing table. It looked like a...? He gasped. "I don't need a diaper!"

"I don't need you making puddles all over the place," Chloe shrugged, unfolding the diaper regardless of his whining. 

"I don't need it!" Mark cried, beginning to desperately flail and kick his arms and legs. It was the only way he could imagine deterring the girl, even if it did make him look like an oversized toddler having a tantrum. "I don't need it! No!"

"Be quiet, please," Chloe sighed. She seemed as though she had heard this a thousand times. 

Mark choked in an uncomfortable breath as she plugged his mouth shut - an unwieldy rubber teat rested against his tongue. Bewildered he offered a feeble suckle of it if only to identify what it was, before coming to the sickly realisation that it was a pacifier. A giant baby's pacifier. He spat it out of his mouth with an angry 'ptoo!', grunting and kicking once more. "Get--the--hell-off--of--meeeee!" he wailed, punctuating his words with flailed hits.  
Chloe frowned, catching a glimpse of his pasty thighs as he flailed and striking the backs of them with a resounding thwick. 

The sharp, prickled sting tore his breath away and stunned him into silence, just as she knew it would. He'd even spurted pee from shock; it pooled, a perfect golden quarter beneath him. "You most certainly do need diapers. Finish."

"W- what?"

Chloe yanked down his soaked boxers and pressed the fresh diaper to his crotch. "Finish. Then I'll get you breakfast."

Mark whimpered, pitiful, but went limp as he released what was left into the diaper - trying to imagine he was at home, using the toilet, like he should've been. He had to go a lot more than he'd thought, and by the time he had finished the diaper Chloe held beneath her fingers was heavy and warm. Every now and then she would move her hand slightly, checking whether he was close to leaking. "Good boy," she cooed, taking the moment when he laid on the table in relief to diaper him up for real. The material was bulky and plastic-y, spreading his legs apart somewhat. "Arms up," she instructed. Despite Mark refusing to listen to her she grabbed his arms as if he were just her plaything, stuffing him into a romper. "There!" she cooed, hauling him over to a floor length mirror and plopping him in front of it. "Ah, don't you look adorable?"  
Staring back at Mark was a boy that he didn't recognise - a boy with ruddy tearful cheeks, stuffed into a snap-crotch style romper that was covered in pastel coloured lambs. This romper was just a bit too small, the snapper buttons just barely concealing his poofy plastic diaper that spread his legs apart. The pacifier he had spat out remained stubbornly close to him, hanging limply on a clip that was attached to his romper. Chloe ran her fingers through his hair as Mark pulled faces of disgust at himself. "So _cute_!" she emphasised. "Now, let's get you breakfast."

The rest of Chloe's house was... pretty normal, or at least it was from what Mark saw as she led him to the living room. 

And then he saw it. A large orange seat, suspended from the ceiling by a handful of elasticated blue ropes, sat comfortably in between the sofa.

"Here you go, sweetie." Chloe smiled, plopping him into the seat and buckling him up.  
The seat forced his legs apart even more than his diaper already did. His feet dangled off of the floor and he squeaked in discomfort, straining to let his feet meet the floor - but they didn't. Pulling away, he fumbled with the buckled strap that lay across his tummy. "What is this?" he whimpered in confusion. 

"It's a bounce chair!" Chloe ruffled his hair and nudged the seat so he began to bob lightly. "This is where you can eat your breakfast."

Mark huffed, crossing his arms and stilling, watching Chloe leave to the kitchen.

Breakfast was nowhere near as tough as he thought it would be. He dreaded being fed a jar of mush, but instead Chloe made him a piece of toast slathered in raspberry jam. Sure, she crouched in front of the bouncer as he ate, said some awfully embarrassing things like, ‘great job, sweetie, eating your num-nums’ or ‘look at that jam all over your mouth! I bet your friends would love to see this!’ and alternated his bites of toast with spoonfuls of mango yoghurt - but Mark was glad that she was at least feeding him something that wasn’t just... a jar of mush. He ate his breakfast with no fuss until both bowl and plate were empty. Smiling, Chloe wiped over his hands and loosened the buckle of the bouncer, allowing for him to climb out as she took the dinnerware to the dishwasher. Clambering out of the bouncer clumsily, Mark stumbled to the sofa in surprise, stomach clenching happily. Maybe this was it? Maybe this morning had been some sort of nightmare that he was ready to wake up from...?

Chloe entered the living room. “Now,” she said sweetly, so sweet that Mark thought maybe she was letting him go, “I think it’s time for your punishment, don’t you?”

”Punish...?” Mark trailed off, voice a squeak. “...Punishment? Why?! All I did was— I sat in the bouncer like you wanted me to, I ate my breakfast!” he gestured, whimpering. 

Chloe only laughed at him, which made him feel so very tiny. “You’ve got a naughty mouth. Can’t have you using bad words at football, can we?”

”I’m sixteen! All my friends say stuff like that!” Mark whined in protest. 

“They’re all bigger than you. You’re just a little boy.” Chloe shrugged, as though that answered everything. “Sit there.” With a pointed finger she indicated a chair in the kitchen doorway that Mark hadn’t noticed before. Hesitating, he slunk to the chair. If he didn’t, he was worried Chloe might tell all of his friends about what she had made him do. He sat on the chair, bunching his legs together, and watched as Chloe came close to him. “Open your mouth.” Now she towered over him - and her voice seemed to too. Chin trembling, he opened his mouth, and Chloe inserted the bar of soap into his mouth so that it rested along his tongue and didn’t quite poke out between his lips. “You will sit there for ten minutes. No spitting.” She told him. “You break the rules, I up your punishment. Afterwards, if you’re good, I’ll let you wash your mouth out.”

Mark sat on the chair, arms folded - looking, ironically, every inch the pouting child as he kept his eyes on the clock. Chloe bustled around him quietly, trusting him to sit there, but the second she was out of sight he dramatically spat the soap out of his mouth - at the same time grimacing at the sensation of soap bubbles foaming in his mouth. "This is bullshit," he spat through his mouthful of suds, standing. What was he even doing here? Why was he sitting there and letting her do this?! "I'm going home."

Chloe whipped around to face him. "Are you?" she asked. She had something in her hand-- Mark's heart pinged in the bottom of his gut to realise that she had his mobile phone-- she must have taken it while he was asleep. "I'm sure--" the camera on his phone clicked audibly and Mark whimpered, bringing his hands up to shield himself in shame, "--your friends would love to see you like this, wouldn't they? Who should I send these photos to, hmm?" her gaze drifted, and she looked as if she was scrolling through his contact list. His stomach dropped and worry squirmed nervously in the very pit of it. "Ethan? James? Elijah? Oooh,"--her eyes glittered, she smirked--" _Jackson_?"

Jackson was the oldest member of their football team, the captain, and at a beefy twenty years old he towered over Mark with ease. Mark couldn't begin to imagine what Jackson would do to him if he found out. He would get him kicked out of football, for a start, or laugh and tease him at the very least.  
Mark sprinted to Chloe and jumped at her, clawing urgently to get his phone out of her hand - which was difficult when the tears formed in his eyes - "Please!" he pleaded the girl, "Please don't!"

"Hi, Jackson," Chloe spoke theatrically as she pretended to type out the text, making sure to hold the phone out of Mark's reach as he dived and jumped and pleaded for it. "Look at me being punished because I said lots of naughty words..." 

All the while Mark cried and pleaded, "Jackson is gonna kick me off of the team!" he blubbered, tears trickling down his reddened cheeks. His nose had also begun to run and was streaming over his lips, even as he sniffed. Sighing, Chloe lowered the phone. "Are you going to take your punishment?" She spoke very softly. It would have been almost soothing had Mark not known how easily he could anger her.

Mark nodded, desperately, screwing his tearful eyes closed. 

"Final chance or I belt you." She warned. "Ten minutes." 

Chloe ushered him toward the chair, and miserably he sat.  
~

"It won't go away," Mark whimpered, calling through the bathroom door as he frantically sloshed cold water into his mouth. Although the soapy tang had faded from his tongue, adding water made even more soapsuds appear. It wasn't fair! His punishment was over!

He had, at least, taken the rest of his punishment quietly.

"Never mind, sweetie. Let me get you some juice and you can play for a little while." Chloe cooed.  
~

"You have GOT to be kidding me," Mark scoffed, staring at the mat that was laid out before him covered in brightly coloured animals and alphabet tiles. When he stood on it, it crinkled. This was in a new room, a new room that was even more terrifying than his bedroom. The wall was a sage green, patterned with safari animals, and the floor was littered with toys - teddies, blocks, cars, stacking rings. To add insult to injury, Chloe had offered him apple juice in a comically large baby bottle--this, too, covered in safari animals. There was even a nipple on top.

"You're the first little boy I've seen who moans about playtime!" Chloe laughed, nudging him forward with a hand on the small of her back. Mark baulked, yanking his arm away from here. "I'm not a baby!" he snapped.

"What else would you be doing anyway?" Chloe shrugged, urging him forth again. This was enough to make Mark pause for thought. There was a claw in his stomach, a horrible pinching claw, that told him this time Chloe had a point. Sinking slowly to the floor, padded bum crinkling, he reached for the Mega-Bloks.  
Together they clicked blocks to one another, building up one wall of a castle, then another, then another and another. As much as Mark didn't want to admit it, it was a little bit fun.  
He was just putting the last block onto the final turret when Chloe cooed, holding out the still full bottle. "You didn't drink any of your juice!"  
This, she was surprised by. Her other little boys at least drank a little when they relaxed a bit and forgot about where they were and how big and grown up they were supposed to be. 

But Mark - Mark moved away from the girl as though she had tried to hand him a live rat, shaking his head.  
The fun of the afternoon died out in an instant. "Not drinking that." he shook his head adamantly, pinching his lips into a tight thin line. "I want a glass. I'm sixteen."

"You'll spill it," Chloe shrugged, pressing the bottle forward. "Especially while playing."

"I don't want it! Give me a glass!" Mark folded his arms and sat back, turning his head from the girl. He looked every inch the petulant child Chloe knew he really was; she chuckled, pressed the bottle forward insistently - and this made Mark boil over. "I said I don't want it! Don't laugh at me!" he shouted, shoving the girl over. She wobbled like a weeble, falling onto her back with a soft thwump, like a tortoise. The bottle slipped from her grip, arching through the air almost in slow motion before clattering to the floor; lid popping off on impact. It was so unexpected--and so funny--that Mark couldn't resist letting a few bubbled giggles burst free. 

Chloe sat up. The apple juice in the bottle had poured out and puddled beneath her and it sort of looked like she had wet herself, which somehow made Mark giggle a tiny bit more gleefully. "I think someone needs an early bedtime with his bottle." Chloe sighed.  
~

"What?! It's not even mid day!" Mark wrestled against Chloe's grip, kicking and fighting and whining. She had him tight under the armpits, facing away from her, squeezed into a sleepsuit. 

"You need to learn to behave." Chloe said, as though it were obvious. "And you're whining. Little boys who whine are usually tired." She plopped him unceremoniously into the crib he had not long vacated and, alongside him, placed a fresh bottle before pulling the covers up. "You can come out in thirty minutes, hopefully a bit more well behaved."  
She paid him no attention otherwise, drawing the curtains closed so the room dimmed a smidge. "If you'd like a stuffed animal you can take one."

Mark scoffed. Chloe shrugged and left the room.  
...Hesitantly, the second she had gone, the sixteen-year-old reached for the stuffed giraffe in the corner of the crib. He slept with a stuffed animal at home because it was so quiet - just a silly old teddybear - and being without one was... odd. Well, the whole damn thing was odd, but being without his teddy didn't much help. Sighing, he clutched the giraffe and laid down again, staring at the mobile on the ceiling. He closed his eyes tight, so tight they hurt. This was ridiculous. It was still light out. Even with the curtains drawn sunlight gushed through the windows. Outside he could hear the happy giggles and coos of a toddler - a real, tiny toddler! - running around with his parents. Not even a real, tiny toddler was treated like he was!  
Rolling over, he laid still for what felt like aeons, face pressed against the soft yellow fur of the giraffe. Of course, he could hop out of the crib pretty easily, but what then...? No doubt Chloe would find him - and then she really would spank him. His only other option was to climb out of the crib and hunt through the toybox, but no way was he playing with toys - especially not toys made for little children!  
Eventually - for something to do - he rolled over again, picked up the bottle, and studied it. The plastic was warm, so whatever was inside wasn't the apple juice Chloe had tried to give him earlier on.  
Even more hesitant, he raised the nipple of the bottle to his lips and suckled, smacking his lips together curiously. It tasted like plain old warm milk, maybe with a little almond flavouring.  
...  
Well, it wasn't as if Chloe had given him anything else - and he was thirsty. Sighing again, he sipped at the milk as he lay in the crib, thinking up all of the possible ways to escape - hop out of the crib, squeeze out of the window, shimmy down the drain pipe, steal that dumb kid's stupid tricycle and make a run for it...?

But before Mark could put this genius plan into action, he was out for the count. A curl of milk dribbled from his mouth as the bottle dropped and he snoozed.  
~

"What would you like for dinner?" Chloe asked patiently. He had escaped further punishment, having fallen asleep Chloe had lifted him out of his crib and carried him to the living room when she had decided he had slept enough.  
It had been embarrassing - he had woken as she carried him toward the couch - whimpering in drowsy worry as he looked around and couldn't grasp an understanding of his surroundings quick enough. Now, though, Mark had recovered from the embarrassment and was sat on his knees on the living room carpet. He shrugged quietly. 

"Tomato soup and a grilled cheese?" she said, not really giving him much of an option.  
Mark didn't answer regardless, rocking on his knees as she disappeared from the room. He had run into a new problem: after OJ with breakfast and milk before a nap, he was now bursting to pee - especially so since he hadn't... gone this morning. His diaper was wrapped tight and dry around his waist - but there was no way in hell he was using it. Rocking forward and back uncomfortably he pressed his hands between his legs - but this did nothing to pull away the urges, not like it usually did, anyway. The padding was much too thick between his legs for him to really squeeze tight. What could he do...? Maybe since he'd been so good after his nap, Chloe would untape the diaper for him? Although, he didn't speak up. He knew the girl would do nothing for him, knew the first words out of her mouth would be, 'the toilet's attached to you, honey!' or something. Standing up, gravity crashed into his middle and he groaned, rubbing his midsection and shifting foot to foot urgently. "I'm... I'm gonna get a toy to play with!" he stammered, redness leaking into his cheeks as he staggered toward the stairs and made a beeline for the bathroom. Maybe he could tear the diaper off to use the toilet...? Hopping the stairs two at a time, the boy whimpered painfully as he got closer to the toilet and his urges grew more and more intense knowing he was _this close..._ standing over the toilet, his fingers were clammy with anticipation as he tugged at the plastic tabs of the diaper - tugged and crossed his legs, danced foot to foot, tried to squeeze himself. As the first few little spurts crept out and soaked into the front of the thick padding, Mark whimpered - this time, a little more throaty and urgent. He was so, so close! He didn't want to pee his pants like a baby!  
As the diaper finally loosened his stream arched thick into the toilet bowl before the diaper even had a chance to fall to the floor; Mark sank, sighing blissfully. Shuddering as he finished up, he stuffed the diaper into the nearby trash can, buttoned up his sleeper, washed his hands and left to get his grilled cheese - considerably happier. When he went for lunch and Chloe said nothing, he knew he had outsmarted the girl.  
Or so he had thought. Still, the belief that he was one step ahead was enough to cheer him up. He didn't even complain when Chloe put him in the bouncer and fed him his soup.  
Throughout the day, Mark took advantage of Chloe's silence to duck to the toilet. He had left a toy upstairs - or, oh, he wanted an extra blanket. By the end of the day, Mark was very proud of himself indeed. He had snatched control back from the girl, and it pleased him immensely. Now, he only had one more day to get through, and this whole ordeal was over. 

Chloe was no idiot. She couldn't quite understand how Mark thought he had one up on her - not when she had heard the toilet flushing, or saw how he had a noticeable lack of diaper-bulge under his sleepsuit - or, simply, how suddenly compliant the little one was with her. If ever she had a fussy little one they didn't do a 360 in the space of five minutes.  
She had bit her tongue when he beamed at her and had let him go to bed diaper-free, but all the while she was biding her time.  
Whistling softly, she prepared him a late night bottle of milk, stirring syrup into it and disappearing off to the nursery. It was about time the little boy had a diaper change, anyway. 

Waking up the next morning, something felt different still. Mark stretched in his crib and hummed, patting his tummy as the drowsy-early-morning feeling fell out of his body. He looked around his crib. There was a bottle left between the sheets, half empty. That was odd, since he didn't have a bedtime bottle or anything like that. Stretching out, slowly he sat up and stood. Or rather... tried to stand. It was as though his legs wouldn't come together to lift him up - instead he flopped forward onto all fours. With great effort he rose to his feet, legs shaking-- only whoompf, down onto his bum he went. His mind raced. What had Chloe done?! "CHLOE!" he yelled, voice shaking. 

"Morning, doll!" Chloe cooed. She didn't seem concerned. "Whatever is the matter?"

"S- something is wrong," he blubbered. "I- I can't stand up. I keep falling over!"  
His chin wobbled. He looked near tears, cheeks hot and red as he looked up at her. He couldn't have looked more like a baby had he tried. Laughing fondly, Chloe lifted the boy out of the crib and tucked him close. He tucked close to her, pulse racing, feeding off of her comfort despite himself. "You keep falling over, huh? I wonder why that is?"  
With every word she gave a firm pat to his padded bottom, grinning.  
The realisation thudded into place in an instant; his blood froze over. "You did this to me!" he sobbed wildly, throwing himself from her arms. He landed on the floor - eyes squeezed shut, regretting the movement and expecting it to hurt his non-padded rear end - with a thwumf. He looked at himself in confusion, and then - if it was humanly possible - realisation made his blood run even colder.  
Chloe had diapered him. Again. Here he was, in a sleeper that had been ripped open at the poppers, sat in a diaper.  
And not only had she diapered him again, she had diapered him up _thick_. The garment around his waist was huge, comically so, looking like a pillow had poofed out from his midsection. It was so big it threw his entire body off balance, forcing him into a crawling position. On hands and knees, he whimpered uncomfortably. "Why?!" he stammered up at her. 

"I'm not stupid, baby." she told him, her voice a cold neutral tone. "I know you tore all your diapers off to potty, so I took that choice away from you, just like a real little baby. Now come on. Breakfast."

Mark whimpered, too emotionally shocked to even think of a response to the girl. It didn't quite sink in as to what she meant. On his hands and knees he followed her, clumsily, all the way to the living room.  
~

Breakfast was no different to yesterday - into the bouncer he went, 'mouth open!', patiently spoon-fed and cooed to the entire way through, as though he was a baby who would spit it all up. Mmm. Sometimes Mark daydreamed of spitting it up in her face so it ran in gloopy lumps down her stupid hair and stupid hairband and stupid face...  
This time, Chloe had prepared him a bowl of 'baby porridge' - or at least that was what she called it. It tasted of peaches, and was actually quite nice, but Mark was angry with Chloe and so he made sure to pull faces and over dramatically mime being sick at every opportunity just to spite her. Oh how he wished he wasn't in this stupid bouncer! He dreamed of grabbing the plastic bowl Chloe was holding and frisbee-ing it across the room, or snatching the spoon and catapulting a glob of peach porridge up the curtains. That'd teach her. 

"Would you like to watch TV while I clean up?" Chloe asked, cooing at him in that stupid voice.

Hesitantly, though, Mark nodded his head. This was new - she hadn't let him watch TV yesterday. She hadn't even offered him his phone - it had disappeared along with the rest of his 'big boy belongings' when he had woken up. "Can't I watch South Park?" he asked sullenly, already knowing the answer. But it wasn't fair! He had missed at least four episodes last night. Now, when all the guys spoke about it at football, he wouldn't know what they were talking about.

Chloe cooed theatrically, shocked. "What?! No! That's much too inappropriate for little boys!"

"The Big Bang Theory?" he asked desperately. He had missed that too. 

Chloe scoffed and shook her head. "Mmm, definitely not! I'll choose a programme for you instead!" she decided, flicking on the television and scrolling over to the children's channels. She scrolled past the cartoons he would usually watch - Spongebob, Adventure Time, even Phineas and Ferb - and chose Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom, instead. "There. Perfect!" she smiled, as a sparkly fairy princess fluttered, giggling, across the screen. "That seems appropriate!"

"But-- but it's for _girls_! _Little_ girls!" Mark whined. Chloe shrugged, carrying the bowls out to the kitchen and leaving him to watch television. She didn't know why he was so upset, it was hardly as if he was going to be able to watch the whole episode, not by the time he started digesting his breakfast and her late night surprise kicked in.

Mark huffed, trying his best not to look at the screen. Here he was, a sixteen year old boy, sat in a big poofy diaper, sleeper, bouncer, and watching a glittery fairy princess. His face reddened, thinking of his friends at football and how they would laugh at him if they found out what he had spent his weekend doing. Suddenly, a swipe of pain ran across his middle, and Mark sat up straight--or as much as he could in the bouncer--hands clutching his stomach. He knew immediately what the matter was and there was no way it was going to happen in a diaper. His stomach, however, ha other plans. He was already in a squatting position, legs dangling a little way from the ground, and every now and then his stomach would pinch tightly - encouraging him to puuuuush...  
Moaning unhappily, Mark fumbled for the plastic buckle keeping him encased in the bouncer to unclip it. His fingers were slippery with anticipation, not quite catching the buckle on first go. He bit his lip and tried again, bobbing around in the plastic seat with his effort - breath hitching as he clenched his bum. He looked toward the door, groaning as he fought the urge to curl up and push and then whimpering when the urge passed. He didn't want to call her, but-- but he didn't want her to see him a grunting mess, either. "Chloe?" he squeaked, face reddening. "I need to get out..."  
He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. The mass in his stomach had moved down quickly and was pressing against his backside; he kicked his legs uselessly. "I- I need to get out, like..." he breathed in again, frantic and full, " _Now_!"  
Oh no, oh no, oh no. She might not even let him get out. She might laugh at him and say no and watch as he... as he...

Smiling once she heard his voice - oh, that wasn't long at all! - Chloe went toward the bouncer. "Of course, sweetheart," she smiled, unclipping him from the bouncer and lifting him out. She plopped him on his hands and knees. 

Mark was trembling all over, squirming as he made a beeline for the stairs. Chloe had let him go! His heart thudded, relief prematurely prickling his body. At least he had peace to... _go_.  
If he'd ever make it - from his hands-and-knees vantage point the stairs seemed to expand in front of him, growing longer and longer. His tummy gurgled fiercely and he groaned, curling up for a moment. Just a little bit longer... he raced up the stairs, the gurgled aches in his belly bringing tears to his eyes, but he was closer, closer still. Soon he was in the doorway of the bathroom--and, and all he had to do was... his hands fumbled again, for the waistband of his diaper now. He had pulled his diapers off all day yesterday, he had pretty much perfected the flick--  
the-- the--  
flick--?  
His eyes widened in realisation and he winced. _Oh no, these were the..._

Hands trembling, on autopilot he drew himself to his hands and knees. His body had clearly had enough of waiting. No matter how much he wriggled or clenched or pleaded, tiny throaty 'no, please, no, no, no, no-!'s he couldn't hold it back and finally--" _Mmnf.._ "--grunting without really meaning to, Mark sat on his hands and knees and-- " _Hunnhhf!_ " --loaded his diaper, cheeks a gorgeous, effortful sort of red.

_...thicker diapers!_

"Nngh.." he mumbled pitifully, the back of his diaper sagging slightly to hold in his mess. The laxatives Chloe had plied him with worked his system thoroughly until the back of his diaper had filled a decent amount, and was warm and slightly mushy. To add insult to injury the second he had finished filling his diaper he had to go ramrod straight and soak it, too. By the time he had finished entirely his diaper was heavy and cool on his skin. The first time Mark had done it - had a real, actual accident in his real, actual pants (sort of) in twelve years. His eyes stung in shock at himself. His knees buckled from the weight of his diaper and he curled up against the tile floor, tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks. Now - now he was at a loss. He didn't know how to change himself, not when he was as messy as this - he wasn't sure he even wanted to try.  
The promising young footballer sat like this for a little while, chest heaving with tears, until the sensation of his full diaper was too much to bear. "Chloe...?" he whispered, voice shaking. His throat hurt he had cried so much, but of course she didn't hear him from here. Lifting his head up, his face tight and itching with tears, he drew in a deep, snotty, shuddered breath and screeched. "Chloe!"

Chloe appeared at the top of the stairs. "Yes?"

Her voice was soft and sweet. Mark's face crumpled up at it, wet and shiny red. He had just messed himself, like a toddler. What part of this meant he got the soft, sweet praise?! "I- I need, I need a..." he stammered, fighting a fresh wave of tears. "Change!"

"Oh, you finally used your diapers!" Chloe was delighted. Beaming, she lifted him up for a change as if it were the most normal thing ever. She said nothing about the state of his diapers, nothing about telling his friends, not a teased word - just a gentle rub to his tummy as she cleaned and re-diapered him. 

Laying on his back on the changing table, Mark sighed. The sensation of a clean diaper was miles, miles better than the sensation of a messy one, at the least. He squirmed impatiently for Chloe to change him, staring at the painted murals on the walls. "...Why?" he asked at last, softly. 

"Why what?" Chloe asked in return, pouring a small cloud of baby powder onto his nethers. 

"Why are you doing this?" He didn't cry, even if his voice sounded a bit tight again. "Why me? What did I do to you?"

Chloe raised her eyebrows, chuckling as she tabbed one side of his diaper. "Why are you letting me?"

Mark baulked, jerking upwards, ready to make a run for it. " _Letting_ you?!" he spat. 

Chloe had her arm across his middle and forced him into laying down again. She shook her head. "You said all that stuff in the coffee shop, about your parents kicking you out, about being lonely..." she shrugged idly. It made sense to her, anyway.

Mark picked up a nearby toy and squeezed it; it crinkled. "You do this to other people?"

Chloe shrugged. "It's a hobby."

Mark scoffed. "Sick hobby. Some of us have normal hobbies. Like football."

Chloe laughed.  
They settled into silence as Chloe buttoned him into a sleeper. Dry, crinkly, and smelling as fresh as a newborn baby, Chloe helped Mark sit up. "I mean," she indicated, "You just let me diaper you and put you in a sleeper. Why?"

Mark reddened, his voice tiny. "You're going to tell all my friends about this. If I run away or act up."

Chloe said nothing, lifting the boy into her arms. "...let's go finish Ben & Holly, then."  
~

"You have football tomorrow?" Chloe asked, softly. 

Mark swayed idly in the bouncer, nodding. Although the television was still on he was more interested in watching his feet dangle from the bottom of the bouncer and trying, in earnest, to make them touch the floor. "Why?"

"No reason." Chloe shrugged. "I can drop you home later tonight. You and the rest of your big boy belongings."  
This time, she was only gently ribbing him. 

Mark blushed. "Can't wait."  
~

Putting his booted foot on the bench, Mark sighed happily as he tightened his laces.  
It was Monday. He had woken up in his own bed, diaper free, and had even eaten breakfast by himself while drinking something from a glass rather than a baby bottle. He was just getting ready for football and was really quite excited that he could swear at his teammates as much as he liked without fear of being spanked. Once he had got home he had deleted his profile and blocked Chloe on every social media website he could think up. His nightmarish weekend had come to an end, and he did not want to repeat it any time soon. Running out after his teammates, he frowned a little as they all filed into the sports hall rather than the large open fields they usually went onto to play. 

"Hey team," said a familiar voice. "I'm afraid your coach is unwell and will be unable to complete the rest of the season so I've taken his place. I trust you'll do fantastically whether under his coaching or mine - so let's go and have a great game!" 

Mark's heart sank. 

...Chloe put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, smiling sweetly at him as they went out to the football pitch.


End file.
